A Mutant Called Wanda
by PaintingLakes
Summary: For Wanda Maximoff, reality is a little different. For her there is more than one. Wanda Maximoff visits Professor Xavier in 1983, hoping to clarify Erik's past and her own future before she makes any decisions about which side to choose. During their meeting a particular day in 1973 comes to mind—the day the twins stole an arcade machine from their local convenience store.
1. Chapter 1

Wanda got up with a start. She blinked in the sunlight as she tried to keep track of what reality she was on. It was afternoon. She had taken a nap on the sofa. The year is 1983. Post-apocalypse. She's alive. So is her family.

Peter walked up from the basement and laughed a little at her darting eyes. Leg freshly healed. Still a loser but home only temporarily. Like her, he now lives elsewhere. Wanda and he live separate lives now.

"So?" Peter watched her as she rubbed her temple. "Was I in this one? What was I like? Do I have a girlfriend? Is she hot? Also, where does it happen because sometimes you're vague."

Wanda perceived reality differently than others. It started in '73. Sixteen and a shift happened. The future somehow changed and the changes made was her new reality. She could handle that. What she could not handle however, was that the unchanged past frequented her sleep. She was living two lives.

"I swear you're insane though." Peter laughed. "I don't believe that when gross bone-claw guy went back in time in 1973, you could tell time changed. This is the present dude. Deal with it."  
"Magneto was mentioned in this one."  
And that shut Peter up. Wanda asked if he wanted to hear the present of another reality. He did.

* * *

The year was 1983. Pre-apocalypse.

It took two tries to open the door. She looked around hoping that no one was waiting behind it. She didn't like going to new places. That anxiety would come and her icy, glacier exterior would slip with momentary embarrassment.

Coming to Xavier was quite a step, especially for someone who confined herself in solitude for most of her teenage years. She had went from self-imprisonment to flying the nest in a space of a few months years ago. She never did do things in halves. Always one extreme or the other.

She pushed the stupidly heavy door and felt a gush of wind come in after her, probably frizzing up her thick wavy hair that relied on hairspray to keep it's defined shape. The blue eyes darted as she looked around wearily and pulled down her skirt a little. She usually took pride in expensive sexy clothes and her appearance but this place felt like a church. At least she was wearing a bra for once, right?

She wondered now if she _really _needed answers to her questions. She could just wash her hands off the whole thing, couldn't she? It was the_ eighties_ after all. It shouldn't matter who her parentage is. She was Wanda. Even her surname was just for paperwork. Her mother's complicated past was...colourful and still enigmatic to say the least. But, still, this time she wanted the real truth from an unbiased outside source.  
She wasn't sure if her brother Peter didn't care or didn't want to know, but he expressed no interest in coming. He was too busy living the high-life, using his mutation to not only live but thrive amongst _normal _people. He was one of the few.  
Wanda herself didn't really work, didn't have to. Things came to her. When she wanted something they usually had a way of getting to her. And that lead to the other reason she was here...

"Are you looking for someone?"  
She looked around to see some red-head look up at her. She tipped her chin upwards slightly, eyes looking down with cool detachment, sure that whatever this kid would say would be a waste of her time. "Yes. Professor Xavier." There was something about this teen that she instantly disliked. Peter would probably call it "bad vibes". She could feel it in the air between them.  
"He's probably somewhere..." the girl smiled unhelpfully, taking a furtive cynical glance at Wanda's outfit, like the kid was some freaking fashion critic. Wanda could feel her hackles rising as their eyes locked in a silent staring match. She really did hate kids who were far too big for their boots.

"Wanda."  
Both looked up as a bodiless voice interrupted their tense greeting, snapping them out of it. Wanda heard directions in her mind, dazed and a little freaked out. It was a little like your voice of conscience suddenly started speaking like a Englishman.  
She blinked a little as she forgot all about the rude girl and walked cautiously in the direction she was told. All was quiet as her boots knocked on the wooden steps a little too loudly. She shrugged as she adjusted her leather jacket, thinking as she tread. Any mutant she had heard of could describe their powers in a few sentences. Super-speed, controls electricity, has a tail, disappears, reads minds...even weird claws.

Her hand hovered over the door handle.

_But mine? _She thought about it as she swallowed and looked up at the Spring light streaming in through large old windows.

She just had no idea. It was vague but powerful. Fantasy-like yet hyper-real. She wasn't sure if it was normal even by mutant standards.


	2. Chapter 2

She stood there, determined to not dither on the threshold or look awkward. She watched the silhouette sitting at the window, bathed in pale sunlight that streamed in through the panes of glass and settled on mahogany furniture that typically belonged in the average Professor's study.  
She gritted her teeth as the figure was just sitting there, not saying anything.  
After a beat the same voice finally said something. "Go ahead. Take a seat."  
She took in a breath as she watched him wearily, feeling like she was about to have some sort of dumb therapy session. If this is what the Professor thought she was here for then he was greatly misinformed. She didn't need help. She wasn't going to sit on some couch and come to terms with emotions and "come out" and be put in some sub-human category. No way.  
She watched the Professor as she sat down and thought about bolting immediately. Was it too late?  
He finally turned, or rather, wheeled around to see her. He was middle-aged and smiling like he understood everything that was happening, it annoyed her almost.  
"I understand you came here to talk."  
She put her hands on her legs, drumming her fingers while looking at them before composing herself, trying to look like the twenty-something adult that she was meant to be instead of some awkward looking adolescent. "Yes. I..." She desperately searched for something to say, racking her brain for just one of the thousands of questions that have floated around in her head for the past number of months. She spent a few more dire seconds before gritting her teeth and swallowing the last of her pride.  
Professor Xavier changed the subject, coaxing her into conversation. "How is your brother?"  
"He's..." She thought about him in his huge office, spinning in his ridiculous modern art chair thing while smiling at his newest Chanel-wearing secretary with his trademark stupid grey suit and new haircut, "Good. Living in New York I think. But he travels a lot. He's a hard guy to pin down." She watched the Professor watch and nod, like he cared about what she was saying.  
A smile pulled at his mouth. "Of course I'm interested, Wanda." He tried to put her at ease as her blue-green eyes widened a little. "You're ability is what you're concerned about and what you are going to ask me about today- -although I know that there is something else. And you and I both know it's the thing that you've thought about just as much as you walked up the steps into this building."  
Wanda tried to talk, made no noise, then cleared her throat. "Yes, my...mutation. I'm not sure if it's real. Or if I'm-"  
"Crazy?"  
She fixed her gaze on her lap as he said it, feeling partly confused and awkward. Wishing she never came. It was getting to her already. "It's just that it comes and goes...it's not always there...And when something does happen I don't even know what I'm doing..." She focused on the branches swaying outside in the wind instead of looking him in the eye. "I guess I still wonder if what I have even counts as a mutation."  
"Firstly," the voice of reason calmed the inner storm as she spoke, "it's not a competition. There is no right way to be a mutant. The fact we even exist is still disputed by many. You've seen the posters I'm sure." He watched her nod and continued. "From what I've seen, your abilities are triggered by emotions. Like anger."  
"Okay, I guess you're right. But am I_ dangerous?_" She was getting to the heart of her problem already. She had said it. Memories surfaced in her mind.

_At the kitchen door Wanda crouched frozen and wide eyed. Her mother was against the wall, one hand ready to block a blow, the other on her large bump. Her teeth were barred as she looked up with hatred through the dyed-brown hair that had fallen out of place as she moved quickly into a crouch to protect her stomach. Bob's__ muscular arm was pulled back and ready to aim. His red hair glowed under the bright kitchen light. Wanda could hear herself let out a __yell, heart breaking as she watched her world fall apart. Wanda slowly outstretched her hand feeling the heat of hatred build up into an inferno of fire within her heart. __Bob aimed his fist and her mom reached up, prepared to block it with a thin arm, eyes suddenly dangerous. But Mom was really only looking after the baby. Rage, fear and desperation made her head spin as she immediately pulled back the door and watched Bob swing his arm down in a pummel. She wanted him to stop, to die. The fire within her suddenly escaped like there was no more room in her small body to hold it.  
__Wanda had her arm outstretched, feeling electricity through her veins as she saw nothing but fire consume the object of her hatred, protecting her mother and future sibling.  
It was Thanksgiving, 1966._

She blinked, suddenly in the room again. Almost two decades later. She wondered if the Professor had seen it. "Well?" She watched him, slightly alarmed at the thoughtfully stunned look on his face. That could only be a bad sign. He had seen worse hadn't he? Was he going to kick her out, worried she would set everything on fire? She thought about leaving yet again.  
"No. Stay." The Professor reached up to his temple out of habit. "I wasn't expecting this..." A worried expression flitted behind his eyes, "Has Erik tried to find you?" 


	3. Chapter 3

The latest Rolling Stones record was playing and a collection of feminist poems were balanced on her lap. The only thing that could've made Wanda any more hip would be a French cigarette smouldering in her hand. But Mom would kill her if she did that.  
It was early summer. Wanda was sixteen.

Wanda Maximoff looked out the window, from this angle she could see only the sky and that was quite nice. She didn't leave the house. It was too dangerous. She panicked when she was in a room full of people and the thought of being forced out of the house made her skin crawl and breath speed. Basically she was a hermit, bookworm weirdo with far too much time on her hands.

"Hey."  
Her eyes widened slightly. Her hair rippled in the gust of air he had created. He was standing there as if he had been in the same spot for an hour, waiting for her to finally notice him. She told him to get out, adding a few choice words before turning a page.  
"Wow. I should totally tell Mom what a fine daughter she's raised."  
"Get the hell out _doofus_." She started to really stare down on him, waiting for the room to begin to distort slightly around them, shadows lengthening around her bedroom and the floor started to tip.  
"Jeez. Take a chill-pill for once! I've come here to..." He flinched as he felt the effects of Wanda messing with his mind. It got him every time. It just seemed so real. "Stop it Wanda! I need your help!"  
"Uh, no." Her annoyance subsided and the shadows that filled the room left and returned to normal.  
"Okay. Hear me out. Summer is coming, right? And we will have nothing to do..."  
"Speak for yourself." She interrupted.  
Excitement played on his face as his overgrown hair flopped over a brown eye. "So, because_you _don't leave the house and I don't want to waste our mom's hard-earned quarters..." She knew something was coming. "I want an arcade machine. Pong."  
"You're an idiot, you know that, right? And what about that stupid ping pong table downstairs? You already play yourself!"  
"-And plus, the guy who owns the arcade is super mean and puts up signs warning those with "the disease" to keep out. He deserves it. We're doing good. We're helping_ karma_."  
In the corner of her room a small lava lamp glowed and she watched the blobs move up and down, ignoring him in his enthusiastic state. It didn't take long until he got bored and moved on. Usually.  
"I'm fine here. Go away. Get arrested. Go rot in jail for all I care you thief."  
"Don't have a cow, Wanda." He adjusted those stupid-ass goggles on his head. "If you're there you could convince him he had no machine to begin with. Do that mind thing you do. He wouldn't even call the cops or nothing. So brush your hair, get your coat, put on your shoes and..."  
"Peter. I am not leaving this _house!_"

* * *

"I hate you so much. It should be illegal since I'm so close to murder right now." She took in a breath, uncomfortable about being out. She wanted to find a hole, crawl in it and be alone for the rest of her life.  
Peter was wearing dark sunglasses, she was wearing a cap over her red-brown hair. She plucked up the courage and began to walk towards the doors of the store. Her red corduroy legs made a rubbing sound as she pushed through into the store. Peter had literally taken her out of the house. Like a bag of garbage he had lifted her out and set her on the sidewalk. She had no choice in the matter.

The Maximoff's were infamous in the neighbourhood and everyone watched them with intense interest. It was as if they were a real-life television show. Like the Brady Bunch on LSD. Now Wanda was in she could hear people stop what they were doing as she flipped her hair and walked purposefully in the direction of the fashion magazines, picking up a Cosmopolitan and immediately reading the lines '_Are you sexually mature? 11 ways he can tell!'_ before going over to the counter, feeling her hands sweating through the magazine pages already.  
She fumbled for some dollar bills as Peter came in, walking as casually as one could with grey hair at fifteen before lingering at the confectionery aisle. This was the signal to do the thing.

She took a deep breath.

* * *

**Yeah, happy holidays, peace out.**


	4. Chapter 4

Xavier had said it. His name. Wanda had tried not to flinch at the sound of it. Also, the Professor had mentioned it so casually. Like Erik_—_Magneto_—_wasn't some scary middle-aged man who hated the world, bar his little group of selected special mutants. And it also bothered her that Xavier looked at her for far too long, like he was finding something in her face, studying it like a map. It also bothered her that when he mentioned Magneto there was no loathing or even tightness in his voice. She also didn't like the thought of trusting someone who might be buddies with a complete nut like_ him_.

He was the person she had hated long before she even knew his name. She hated the father that she never knew with all of the stubbornness of a three-year-old, carrying it around for just over two decades and letting the hatred fester. The only thing that had changed over the years was that she just got more articulate when she mumbled to herself now and then. Cursing the person who cursed her, with the mutation that made her fear the world and herself.

The anger abruptly changed to shock as realized the glass she had been absent-mindedly staring at was now quivering, threatening to spill as the water bounced around like it was boiling. Although_ really_, it wasn't. She and Xavier_ saw_ it. But it wasn't _real_. It was simply an illusion that they both saw. She could tip the glass over and water would spill and soak into the carpet. But she'd snap out of it. And the illusion would fade. The glass was actually untouched.  
The understanding Professor sat there, understanding, knowing. Tears welled up behind her eyes. Kindness always got her tearing. She couldn't stand it. She managed a shaky smile, then dropped it. "Peter is lucky," She blinked her eyes that were becoming sore and heavy, "His emotions don't affect his abilities."  
"That depends on how you look at it."  
"Hmm?" She squinted as she was rather hoping he wasn't going to do the whole 'look on the bright side' routine. Because she didn't have time for that today.  
"From my experience, those with mutations like yours_—_controlled by emotion_—_usually have untapped potential."  
"Like, an oil field?" She was being facetious, but she didn't care. He wasn't making sense. And she was nearly on the verge of tears.  
He continued, ignoring her cynical mutterings. "And that's why I asked if Erik knows about it."  
"Why, what would he do?"  
The Professor looked away, as if he knew. He just didn't want to tell her, didn't want to think too much about it.

* * *

Peter and Wanda didn't look at each other as he entered the store, pushing the squeaky door behind him, sneakers squeaking conspicuously on the linoleum floor. She stood behind some plump middle-aged woman digging deep for coupons and bills, eyes nervously darting around as another person queues behind her before remembering something, muttering to themselves. Some guy dressed like a trucker with a beard is close behind her. Too close. She hears the noisy exhale almost whistle through his beard. The scratch of fingernails skid over flesh. She tensed up, like a statue. She hated being close to strangers. She looked over again, shooting daggers into Peter's back as he loitered around the corner behind the candy bars, surveying three kids their age playing Pong. The teens quickly looked over their shoulders, emotions flitting over their faces. While Wanda attracted general emotions of dislike from people—with her snarly attitude that covered for her fear of people—Peter just confused everyone. He really did. First it was how he looked. The silver hair was sort of cool if you were into the whole punk thing but for the usual passer-by it was very abnormal. Some were simply scared of him, like his eccentric manner was something that was contagious. He was weird enough to be bullied mercilessly but there was something that made people fear to approach him and that was what Wanda envied about him.  
"Hey. Next."  
Wanda turned, facing the guy behind the counter. He was in his thirties but nature had dealt him the blow of a bald shiny head and thick glasses. His glare behind them were coloured with discontent. She almost threw the glossy magazine on the counter. She knew that their plan was capsizing and it was time to jump overboard and abandon ship. Peter would have to fill up his summer some other way. A cough that sounded phelmy interrupted her inner thoughts. "What age are you? "  
She looked at the clock behind him. Heart racing and feeling sick but a smile said otherwise. "Eighteen, why?"  
"A girl like you shouldn't be reading this filth. You'll grow up to be a streetwalker. Or somthin' worse. And get the disease."  
She scrutinized him as she waited for a few seconds to reply, feeling what felt like static start to build up on her skin. "Really?" Her bottom row of pearly sharp teeth were visible as her cold green-blue eyes settled on a stain on his bowling shirt. She lingered on his weaknesses, flaws, unfortunate features until she no longer feared but pitied him. Her dark side was settling over her and she wanted it to. Just so she could feel strong and powerful for once. "Tell me more..."  
The man looked at her, almost blushing like an idiot. "The disease. Abnormalities. It's fatal. Contagious." He mumbled the last bit with far less conviction.  
She knew what he was talking about. People who were _abnormal_. They said disease was catching. You didn't know who had it. People weren't sure how it spread or what it really was. Did you just have to touch them? Sleep with them? Be in the same room with them? No one knew if it was even real. There was no proof. Some cover-ups, some hoaxes too.  
"Oh." She passed the dollars across the counter, touching the bills with only a few fingers. The guy at the counter hit the cash button with force, watching her like she was about to whip a revolver from her underwear. She didn't wear a bra of course, she was a modern woman. It would have to be her knickers.  
The lights began to flicker around them as she stared at the till, watching the little numbers flick up and down like crazy, the radio behind that had been almost silently been playing British pop songs began to crackle. The man behind her coughed again, looking up and swearing quietly.  
The guy with the dollars still in hand had shrunk with a kind of nonchalant fear, not entirely sure if it was a false alarm, a dream, or an impossible earthquake.  
Wanda smiled as the kids around the machine stood glued to the spot, seeing what the sales guy was edging to the exit out the staff door. Wanda tipped over a tower of Twinkies, letting the boxes smack on the floor as the trio screamed a little in horror as Peter was up against the wall, looking at his watch like nothing was happening before looking at them with raised expectant eyebrows. The plastic foam tiles of the ceiling fell in a cloud of dust and they bolted as the ground started to tip like they were on a boat on rough water. She was starting to enjoy herself as she started to sweep nearby aisles to litter the floor, smash jars and eggs and plunge the shop into darkness.  
_I don't have a disease._ She thought, laughing at the five ordinary people affected by her anarchic illusions. _I'm just better than you.  
_With that she started to feel laughter bubbling up inside her and started to pull down wood and plaster, tears building up. She wanted to destroy ordinary things. She didn't want to feel inhuman any more. The high-schoolers were screaming in terror. The doors of the shop where tight shut. She reached out, tipping more shelves, feeling the beginnings of fire through her veins.

"Wanda!"  
She felt hands grab her shoulders, they dodged the invisible sparks that radiated off her. He would see them, he was faster than electricity. She didn't care what he wanted now. This was his fault.  
"Come on! We have to go! Get it back to normal!"  
She reached out at the soda cans rolling around the floor, bursting all of them so that a fountain of sticky liquid bubbles, hissed and spread, soaking the floor and splattering the walls and unfortunates who were in the shop.  
Peter, now wiping orange pop out of his eyes lounged for her, not bothering with super-speed because if he did that, he would kill her. She managed not to fall on her back as they scuffled in the fizzy liquid.  
The five normals suddenly started to fear the twins who were bickering far more than the paranormal events.  
"Let..." She kicked out, throwing some bad luck his way, making him slip. "...me go!"  
As she tried to get up, already weakened and focused on maintaining the altered reality, holding it together.  
Until real reality was outside in the form of a police vehicle, pulling up outside. Consequences hit her like a truck.  
"Not again..." Peter muttered, putting on his goggles, ready to do some serious escape work as he stood up, dripping and stained.

* * *

**Well, that's that for tonight...If you are bored and haven't read it, give my "A Tattooed Stranger" a go. It's basically a story that fits into this one, following Peter and Wanda's mother Magda. Why not?  
****Thanks for reading if you are! Your feedback makes writing random blab worth it! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Xavier continued, eyes calm. "I'm simply informing you that it's possible someone might want to take advantage of your potential."  
"So someone would just try and make me angry? You realise all I _really_ do is set people on fire when I am. That's the height of my mutation The rest is...I'm not going to—to move the Eiffel Tower or destroy Tokyo!" She rested an angry head on her hand, sizzling because the Professor was so damned calm about it.  
The Professor replied. "I'm saying Erik witnessed the murder of his mother...months of torture...these helped to unleash his mutation. You managed to protect your mother with your mutation. Imagine what would've happened if you had remained powerless?"  
His eyes were locked with hers. She was either imaging it but she heard a gunshot in the back of her head, she blinked as she could almost feel the paralysing pain of grief tearing her apart, letting who she really was spread through her veins, hotter this time, like lava coursing through her. The adrenaline made her broken heart both race and hurt. She needed a moment to recover, the sensation was draining despite doubting if she was even sane. But the warning now made her edgy after she got over whatever Xavier had done to her.  
"So, who's going to kill my mother? Or sister?"  
"Wanda—"  
Her cold eyes glowered through thick gingery brown hair, her resemblance was far closer to Erik than her elder twin. "No, what are_ you_ saying Xavier? Because I need to know. If Eri—Magneto is going to do anything..." She cut off, ready for war.  
"I don't think Erik would ever..."  
She pulled back her chair, ready for an exit. "How can you defend him? I was told he was the reason you're paralysed. You were his_ friend_. And I guess my Mom was just some human he knocked-up." Any hurt she had in the past was now replaced with pure hate as she practically spat the words.  
"Wanda, he—"  
Static built up on her arms. "No." She spoke through her teeth, pointing a polished red finger to her chest. "I know if Peter and I weren't mutants he wouldn't even _look_ at us. Probably because we'd be useless to him and his _'cause'_. And now I'm thinking what _you_ want from me. Other than talk."

* * *

"Pull down the shutters before they see anything! Stall them!"  
She was already shaking, as if she were caught in a blizzard in winter. Cold and weak, she pulled them down. The eldest twin was now coming into his own as he told her what to do. But it had always been like that, as kids he had always made up their little pretend games, always in charge to a certain extent—when she allowed it. It was no different, even now.  
Peter took off his goggles, who knew what he had been doing in the last few milliseconds. "Wanda, you cannot let them leave knowing!"  
A pair of frightened and eyes stared behind that angry mask of hers. She didn't want to hurt them. Then all she remembered was the colour red.

* * *

"Pietro. Wanda. _Come here_."

Wanda finished a page, then taking her time, she emerged from her room, darkening in the May evening light. Wanda made her way down the stairs, looking at the carpet as she did so.  
"I don't want any excuses," her mom began before speaking in the direction of the basement. "Pietro! You have half a secon—" He stood in the living room, appearing like a ghost from thin air. The eyes flitted from her own blue-green eyes to the brown ones. "I know what happened today. It has bloody 'harebrained scheme à la Maximoff' written all over it!" Neither of the twins said anything in their defence as she looked up to she Lorna looking through the banisters, Magda waved her hand to signal she go to her room. "What I want to know is if you two thought they deserved it. Three kids who can't remember anything apart from going into the convenience store? Waking up in the high-school football field? Imagine how frightening that would be?" She looked at Wanda intently. "What if they didn't wake up at all?"  
"SHUT _UP!_" Wanda blinked a few times, before her eyes closed out the various realities that bombarded her in times like these. "Shut up, shut up, shut up..." She mumbled it like a prayer as she flinched at visions of dead bodies, trapped in comas.

"What the hell Mom?" Pietro said it with a little concern, although it wasn't the first time she had dreams or visions that made her question what was real. Once she dreamt Pietro was taken by men in suits. For days she kept glancing out the window, talking about the island she saw and a prison full of kids like them. Eventually she was convinced that it was just a dream.  
"Don't give me that!" She cut him off violently. "I knew this was your idea. I want to see her get better and go to school again, but you probably insisted on dragging her out I'm sure. For a robbery! Sure! That'll cure her anxiety!"  
"Like you've never stole in your life!" He rolled his eyes, he wouldn't crack under pressure like Wanda. He cared a lot less than she did.  
"Because I would've died if I didn't!"  
"Whatever." He always guessed correctly that there was things she had never told him.  
"I just don't want you to be like E—" She cut off.  
"Like who Mom? Say his name." Pietro furrowed his grey brows, watching her seriously. "Is he our Dad? I always thought it'd be nice to want to be like _one_ of my parents."  
"You don't know what you're asking for..."  
He pressed on, eyes narrowing. "Was he abnormal like us? Com'on Mom. Tell us about the guy you knew. The one who was different, special. Who _'could do what no one else in the entire world could'."  
_"—I did what was best for you. I sacrificed everything so you both would be safe...Wanda? Are you okay? I'm sorry." Magda could see she was recovering because her breathing was slowing and a tear had been wiped away in a glossy streak that ran up a cheekbone.  
She replied in-between gasps. "Screw you."  
Magda raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Okay." She said it tiredly in defeat. "Pietro..."  
"It's_ Peter,_ Mom."  
"...Do you remember what I always told you two when you were small?"  
Peter looked at her, arms folded. He had gotten a new jacket. "Eat your greens?"  
"Don't be facetious." She glanced at both, making sure she had their attention again. "I always said the most important thing you can be is kind."  
"_Kind?_" Both looked at her like she was finally losing her mind.  
"This is real life Mom, not some fairytale." Wanda mumbled, now sitting on the arm of one of the chairs.  
"Kindness," she continued, "in the face of your enemy is far more brave than fighting them."  
"Or stupid." Peter looked around, as if someone else had said it when Magda shot him a stern look. Then she knew it was time to give up the lecture.  
"Well, I think that's all I have to say...so go back and do what you were doing before I called you."  
"Aren't you going to ground us?"  
Magda cleared away some papers on the other sofa and sat down, her feet sore from standing all day. "Since when have I ever grounded you? Besides it's an American thing. It sounds stupid to me."  
"Then you're not going to make me take the Pong machine back?"  
Magda had turned on a lamp and put on her reading glasses to read some bills that had been posted. She crossed her legs and shook her head. "You can risk it if you want. Although the owner didn't notice anything was gone I think. Read the local paper tomorrow and see. I only heard it from Mrs. Chatter-brain next door when I was getting the mail. Although it might amuse you that some extra-terrestrial activity has been suspected..."  
"Far-out." Pietro stood with a bottle of 'Mountain Dew', taking a swig.  
"Get a glass for that."  
He stood with a glass in hand. In a second the Mountain Dew was gone. Mom sighed at his incredible gift, one that got squandered on the mundane.  
"Are we still getting take-out tonight?" Peter waited to see if the Friday night tradition was cancelled due to the recent wrongdoing.  
"No. I'm too tired to cook. But Peter? I want you to get a job soon. That store is going to be the first you apply to. Got it?" She closed her eyes. "And I'm not going to be surprised if I see the cops again...so hide the evidence if you want to avoid—"  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's cool. I will."  
"I should force you to take everything back but I'd only be a hypocrite...if this happens again I'm washing my hands of whatever you get up to. I won't stop the authorities either. And my savings are for...whoever want's to go to college. Not for bail."

Wanda sat, watching her mother and Peter talk. In better spirits they were fun to watch together. Sometimes they even made each other laugh. Occasionally Wanda wondered what her mom did in her youth, the only clues were a few tattered novels from the fifties that she found in the attic once. One had a bunch of numbers and codes written on the blank page across from the opening pages that printed: Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. It had been written by Mary Shelley about some crazy scientist who created a monster that basically ruined his life. She had also found other novels that after research, found that they were banned in America when she had bought them. She had never told Peter about her findings. He never gave the past much thought anyway.

"Someone call Laurie down, see what she wants to eat tonight..."  
Peter blew a piece of long hair out of this face in exasperation, as if it would kill him to go upstairs in a millisecond. "Fiiine..."

* * *

_**Bless you for reading.**_


	6. Chapter 6

The Professor didn't speak. He didn't have to reply to her question. He finally gave her what she wanted.  
Like falling head-first into a dream, the world around her was forgotten. Suddenly, she was looking at a woman, Mom. Only she was youthful, not a grey hair in sight with a smooth face that seemed odd compared to what she was used to. Wanda was immersed in the scene. Then her mom, Magda, standing in the rain looked straight at her. Hate and fear were on her face, but sadness too. Wanda knew all about that expression, she had worn it plenty of times. Her mom was saying something, but she was turning her back and walking away.  
The vision was fading.  
"...you..."

* * *

She was back in the room, collapsed in the chair. She had just seen a part of Erik's memory. She was certain. "What was_ that_?"  
"It's something I've been practising lately...it doesn't always work but...that's all I feel permitted to show you."  
"I should go." Wanda tried to pull herself together. She needed out. She felt a little light-headed.  
"Wait." He sat, looking out at the sky that was brightening. "May I conclude your visit with something rather personal and frivolous, Wanda?"  
"Knock yourself out." She picked some fluff off her skirt, ready to go.  
"You know", he said, "when Erik and I were younger men, finding mutants to train, one of the things I'd do to demonstrate my mutation was to make it appear that he was dressed as a woman."  
Wanda didn't know what to say to this, she was stunned.  
"It wasn't pretty either." A smile made his eyes crinkle gave him the appearance that a younger man was underneath those lines.

Her angry confusion subsided a little as he continued. "When I saw you, I confess that I was surprised to see a beautiful young woman that could look like Erik simultaneously. But that's what makes genes so fascinating. Anything is possible."  
"Thank-you for that compliment, Charles. It's made my day." She dead-panned.  
Xavier smiled all the more, as if what she said made him nostalgic. Wanda got up to go out the door, reaching over for a handshake. Middle-aged people were so weird.

The door burst open and she turned around to see a modest-looking man in his late thirties, tall and bespectacled.  
"Oh, you still have company...sorry for barging in Charles." He was about to leave immediately but stopped.  
"Come in—Wanda—this is Hank McCoy. Hank, this is Wanda Maximoff."  
He looked at her for a couple of seconds, examining her, seriously, as if she were a new kind of strange bacteria in a Petri dish. After that, he shot over a small smile with a nod that substituted for a handshake. He clearly had something else on his mind. "I just came to see if the other half of my afternoon science class was here. They've never been late like this before and I can't find them anywhere."

Wanda and Hank looked to Xavier, who seemed pretty relaxed despite the fact a bunch of mutant kids had gone missing. He lifted a few fingers to his temple. "I don't think we need to use cerebro just yet...who are you missing?"  
"Jean, Ororo, Ju—" He stopped when Charles put up his hand.  
"You'll find them out front, at the main gate. Hank? Would you walk Wanda out? This might interest her too."  
"Uh, goodbye Professor."  
"Any time, Wanda."

Hank and Wanda looked at each other before leaving the large study and walking out and down the dark wooden staircase that shone multicoloured underneath the stained-glass windows. Hank looked like he wanted to make conversation as they stepped down in silence. His voice was soft and polite. "How's Peter...or is it Quicksilver now?"  
She rolled her eyes. So many stupid names. "Peter is fine. He decided to become a millionaire when he got a job on Wall Street so he's even _more_ irritating than usual. You don't want to know the stuff he buys with credit cards..."  
"A Twinkie mansion, maybe?"  
"How do you know about_ that?_" She had never met him in her life and he knew about Peter's love of those horrible things made of sponge?  
"I've met him a few times briefly years ago, but you don't forget him in a hurry."  
"You betcha..." She mumbled.

He opened the heavy door for her and walked onto the stone gravel, crunching for a few yards before they had to stop, tilting their heads a little.  
She had felt his presence before she saw him. It might have been part of her mutation or simply a twin thing Peter was here.  
She sighed. "Sheesh. Speak of the devil."  
"My science class...what sort of car is _that_?"  
She shook her head slowly. "An expensive one no doubt...silver of course. Looks like one of those DeLorean cars from here. Apparently they are the 'cars of the future'." She raised her eyebrows at the sixteen or seventeen year old girls who were surrounding the vehicle and a smiling Peter who was sitting on the stainless steel bonnet, arms folded while he talked to the girls. "It's amazing what a haircut and suit do...in high school he was hardly a heartthrob. Now look at him."

He was talking to one girl who had shockingly white hair. Wanda herself wanted a good long stare at her. The pretty girl with creamy dark skin and straight white hair that flowed past her shoulders was quite mesmerizing. She made Peter's silvery grey look boring and commonplace. He was watching her now, innocently flirting like he always did, reaching for a strand of silky moonlight hair as they approached. "Wow. _Nice._ Is it natural?"  
The girl coolly smiled and seemed a little less giddy than the rest. Her accent was't quite American but her tone was curt. "Yes. Is _yours_?"  
He smiled at the attitude. "And what else can you do? Or are is your mutations all the same? Super-cuteness?" He looked around at all six girls, question directed to them all. They all told him their mutations in turn, shyness about abnormalities were gone as they tried to impress him with what they could do while suppressing giggles.  
He looked back at the silent white haired girl who looked bored, looking up into the sky as bright sun came through a gap in the clouds. "What about you, Ororo?"  
"Weather. I can control it."  
"Wow. I should take you everywhere I go then...I've been too busy to work on my tan lately." He raised his brows, looking around again. "I guess I could squeeze four of you in the car..."  
Excited laughter from most of them erupted.

Hank came forward to break it up. It was time for them to be immersed in the world of science instead of the charms of Mr. Peter Maximoff. Hank thought to himself a little bitterly that the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to getting females on his side.

Wanda had came over too, just to remind the girls that the man they were talking to was an idiot of the highest degree. "Peter, in the words of Pink Floyd, _'leave them kids alone'_."

The girls turned at the rude interruption of Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlett Witch who was sometimes mentioned but never seen, word travelled fast that she was at the X-Mansion. Much gossip circulated that she worked in Las Vegas as a showgirl, others said that she was a bass-player in a rock metal band. Both seemed plausible.  
Wanda noticed the red-headed girl from earlier was one of the girls that surrounded Peter. Again the air between them was weird. Like the feeling of static was between them—it was clear to both that if they got too close there would be trouble.

"Wanda! Everyone this is my twin sister! Crazy huh? We share the same boyish good-looks but that's where the similarities end I'm afraid..."

Hank looked sternly at the girls, but it was clear the wasn't the strictest teacher in the world and his soft-hearted nature was probably taken advantage of by the teens.  
"Girls, you are all forty minutes late for class."  
"Relax man," Peter winked at Hank, who Wanda couldn't help noticing was reverberating, like a cat purring. Although he didn't look happy. "They're learning!"  
"Learning what?" Wanda butted in on Hank's defence, saying what Hank couldn't in front of students. "How to be a big-headed dumb-ass?"  
"I'm actually teaching the girls the theory of relativity...aren't we girls?" He winked at them, pulling out a pair of silvery sunglasses before donning them since the weather seemed to be getting warmer. "I'm teaching them how fast time seems to travel when you're having fun...compared to how slowly it goes in a boring lesson. You gotta love Einstein. What a dude."

He looked at Wanda and Hank, knowing it was time to stop goofing around from her reddening hair (a tell-tale sign) and how Beast's eyes and expression were turning more...beastly.  
"Go on girls. Lesson's over...I'll see you soon."  
Wanda rolled her eyes. Peter seemed so shady when he was flirting. It was all innocent but it made her sick when he was charming. "Not if I pay Ororo to send you a bolt of lightening first..."  
"Bring it on sister." He gave Ororo a wink as she was one of the first to head in the direction of the mansion. "I can dodge electricity y'know..."  
Wanda watched Hank and the girls walk away in the direction of their classroom, although they were still in earshot. "Yeah, yeah, let me guess—she puts the 'cute' in 'electrocuted'. Let her go learn from someone worth listening to...Goodbye Hank."  
Peter made a little salute to Hank as he waved vaguely over his shoulder, lab coat fluttering. "_Au revoir, mon ami Bête_!"

Once the huge mansion swallowed the group, Peter took off his glasses, his real self was back. "What's the matter with you? I haven't seen you in months and you're acting like I've read your diary or something. What's bugging you?"  
She realised she _was_ being rather snappy. Xavier had made her grouchy she was taking it out on him. "I was talking to Xavier today."  
Peter nodded. "He managed to talk through my secretary the other day, telling me that he'd like to see me. It was crazy. I thought it was like that old movie, 'Invasion of the Body snatchers'. He told me to come here for this time because you were here. He tell you much?"  
"Yes and no. But I'm glad you're here. I missed you. Pietro."

He smiled and held out his hand, she did the same. Both done the secret handshake from when they were kids.  
His eyes narrowed in the sunlight, looking through long dark eyelashes. "I don't know why you care Wanda...it's the past. Who cares?"  
"I just..." Wanda looked backwards at the huge stately home. "I feel something is coming Peter. Something big."  
"Wait..." He straightened up, tense and serious, "_Bigger_ than colour T.V?"  
"You doofus! I'm serious!"  
"I know." His face was a little grim. "But hopefully it's just a vision that won't happen...I mean, Magneto is getting old. It might be just a weird dream."  
Wanda thought about the vision of the future that she had dreamed of. "We need to be on the same side if it does. I want to know who you're going to choose."  
They both sat on the silver car, hair billowing in the wind, sun on their backs. "I don't want to choose, if I'm honest. We should stand together, all mutants."  
"But it doesn't work out like that Pietro." Wanda pressed on. "This place is great but...it's not an army."  
"I thought you hated Magneto."  
"I know. I do—I mean—I don't know any more. It's complicated. I think I saw pieces of his past..."

Peter butted in. "Which is why I didn't go see Professor X...it would only be confusing."  
"I know but I still wanted the truth. I was curious, okay? I mean...Xavier told me to ask Mom, he didn't feel permitted to_ tell_ me. I saw one thing though. I saw Mom, young, in a city street. She was standing in the rain, no umbrella. It was part of Erik's memory. I'm sure."  
"Xavier can do that?" Peter went back to the problem at hand. "You wanted to know what happened? Wanda, he left her. The end. It was probably a one-night-stand. It happens. It's life."  
"I don't know. I thought she looked too blank or something. Y'know?"

A silence went on between them as they looked over the beautiful grounds in silence. After a minute, Peter finally said something. "We could always take them all on ourselves. Can you think of anyone who could stop us both?"  
She glowered at him, but tried not to smile too."You're crazy. And cocky."  
"Come on." He got up, adjusting his blazer. "Let's get out of here. I'm hungry."  
"Are you suggesting we go somewhere _nice_? Or are you going to buy a crate of Oreos?"  
He got into the drivers seat, throwing the jacket behind him since the sun was now beating down on them. "Actually now you mention it..."  
She rolled her eyes and got in, steeling herself for the break-neck ride. Some things never change...even if an apocalypse is on the horizon.

* * *

"I wonder how Storm got there..." Peter had walked about the room as Wanda had told him the whole dream–alternate reality–that chased her when she slept.  
"_That's_ what you got from that entire story? Peter...you're an idiot. Also, what's the deal with this red-head? I've never met her and yet I already dislike her! Do you know who I'm talking about?"  
Peter nodded and shrugged with a can of soda in his hand. "Yeah. I could kinda see how Jean Grey would be like, your nemesis."  
Wanda bolted upright with eyebrows raised. "Why?"  
"She's...uh, nice?"  
"Shut the hell up. I'm nice. See?" She put her hands up.  
Peter looked incredulous. "What am I looking at here?"  
"Me not choking you to death. That's what." She got up and slipped on her jacket. The sun was getting redder.  
"You'd kill a war hero. I didn't see you fighting evil the day the earth was falling apart."  
Her expression darkened. She really didn't like to be reminded that she could've contributed. "If I could've, I would've. Wrong place. Wrong time. Did you not think of me at all? Of Mom? Laurie?"

The sound of their mom parking in the driveway told them it was time to help get dinner ready. The argument would have to wrap up soon. Peter exhaled, looking at his feet before responding. "There was a moment, when things looked pretty bad for me...my foot was stuck–like I told you–but I...wished you were behind me. I just knew that you'd have not let it happen. You'd change reality to confuse him and, y'know..."  
"What?" She liked being told this. She didn't feel as useless.  
"I have a feeling it'd be like that night when we were kids. Mom was about to get beaten up by that asshole and all I could do was stand still." He shook his head, almost pushing back the memory. He hated it. "You just had to stretch out your hand and I watched as he went up in flames. It was real. When _you_ want something enough it'll happen."  
She laughed bitterly. "I doubt that."  
The sound of the front door heralded Mom's return.  
Peter shrugged. "Okay..." Both turned to see their beloved mother who had a heavy bag in each hand. Ms. Maximoff, stooped to drop the groceries in order to give her grown-up children a long awaited hug.


End file.
